


His Eyes, Like Citrine in the Sunset

by Chrysaora



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Dark, Darkest Night 2018, M/M, Minor References to Bloodline by Claudia Gray, Morally Ambiguous Luke Skywalker, Sexual Content, Sophie’s Choice for Ben Solo, Treat, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-02 01:32:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrysaora/pseuds/Chrysaora
Summary: Wherein the burning of Luke’s training temple and Ben’s fall to the dark side happen a bit differently.





	His Eyes, Like Citrine in the Sunset

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).
  * Inspired by [An End to All Things](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12933276) by [Chrysaora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrysaora/pseuds/Chrysaora). 



> This story is a much-expanded, slashy version of a triple drabble I wrote a few days before _Star Wars: The Last Jedi_ debuted in theaters. The movie made it AU, but I still like the basic idea nearly a year later!

Other minds had always been easy for Ben Solo.

Although he needed to establish actual physical contact in order to excavate the most deeply buried memories, mere spatial proximity to another being was all that was required to read the general shape and direction of their intentions. He’d been doing it since he was a boy living on Chandrila with Leia and Han, and now, grown into manhood, he hardly needed to concentrate to do it. The talent just came naturally.

Actively projecting his own thoughts into the minds of others, however, was a rather different story. He could _do_ things to other beings like paralyze their motor functions and cloud their judgment well enough, especially if their minds were unshielded, but he struggled to make his own thoughts and feelings understood through the Force. It may have had something to do with his nature as well; nobody knew for sure. Even the most basic of sentiments—“I need a drink of water,” for example, or “I’m sleepy”—were an epic struggle, and this struggle posed a practical problem for Ben’s training as a future Jedi Knight: He wasn’t a good team player without the capacity for bilateral psychic communication.

If he was going to participate fully in future missions with his fellow Jedi, he would need to rectify this deficiency, the sooner, the better. And so, Luke wanted to take Ben to a remote, desolate, unnamed planetoid in the Outer Rim for some intensive one-on-one remedial tuition.

Quality time spent alone with Luke, away from the distractions of civilization and other sentients?! Ben hadn’t received that kind of attention from Luke in a long, long time, not since before Luke had formally begun taking on other students besides Ben to train, not since before Ben had stopped calling him Uncle Luke and started calling him Master.

“We leave tomorrow,” Luke informed him.

“Understood, Master,” Ben replied, nodding humbly. Privately, though, his spirit danced and cavorted and sang its happiest childhood victory tune.

***

Night had already fallen, and they’d paused earlier to build a campfire to stave off the chill. Now, as the orange flames flickered and danced and crackled, giving off occasional sparks that rose high up into the air towards the dome of stars overhead, they resumed the lesson.

“Reach out to me, Ben.”

Luke didn’t mean that literally, of course. They were both kneeling on the ground, face to face, but the campfire was bright and hot between them, and if Ben were to stick his hand out, his flesh would burn. Instead, he reached out with his thoughts, trying to communicate them to Luke.

He started by projecting his exhaustion—he’d been enthusiastic at first, but that enthusiasm had ebbed. They’d been at this for three days straight with no real progress. Nothing. He continued projecting his exhaustion, this time embroidering it with faint annoyance—at what point would they resign themselves to failure? Still nothing. Luke was not receiving his thoughts.

Ben heaved a long, heavy sigh.

“Ben,” Luke chided, tone of voice patient and gentle. He didn’t need Ben’s thoughts pushed into his mind to know that Ben was frustrated, and frustration was counterproductive to this exercise. “Begin again. Just do it. There is no try.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Hadn’t that been one of Yoda’s idiotic aphorisms? Ben didn’t relish yet another night spent sleeping out in the open, sharp stones digging into his spine through the thin bedroll. He yearned for the modest comforts of his own apprentice’s cell back at the training temple. Hells, at this rate, he’d take pretty much any damn comfort he could get…

Rebelliously, Ben conjured up the fractured images of his favorite masturbatory fantasies, all of which featured Luke himself: Luke, stroking himself and calling out Ben’s name as he tensed and spilled… Ben, on his knees at Luke’s feet and servicing Luke with his mouth… Ben, straddling Luke’s hips and riding him hard, watching his face contort with pleasure, listening to him moan… Ben, penetrating Luke from behind, thrusts languid and slow, wrapping his arms around Luke’s chest, holding him tight, holding him close…

And finally, the oldest, most treasured fantasy, the one from before Ben had even understood the mechanics of sex: Luke and Ben together, lying side by side in Ben’s narrow childhood bed, facing each other, legs tangled, kissing and caressing and exchanging whispered vows of eternal love—

“ _Ben._ ”

The sound of his name was low, intimate…and practically in his ear.

Abruptly, Ben realized that Luke had moved. The campfire was no longer between them, and Luke now knelt beside him. His expression was solemn, unreadable. Ben had only been doing that to be perverse, certain as he was of his failure. But had he succeeded in projecting those obscene—and heretofore secret—images over to Luke after all? Ben reached out with trembling hand to brush the messy, ashen fall of Luke’s hair back from his forehead…and to pull any hidden thoughts from Luke’s mind.

And what Ben perceived there…dark desire and ravenous hunger, all-consuming…oh, _oh Gods_ …!

Luke’s eyes, which sometimes appeared blue, and sometimes gray, shone by the light of the campfire like citrine in the sunset when Ben closed the remaining distance to kiss him.

***

When they returned to the training temple a week later, the students were in uproar and buzzing with news that had broken only this morning.

That news in question was receiving wall to wall coverage on the Holonet: Senator Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan and hero of the war against the Empire, was _Darth Vader’s daughter_. She was not to be trusted, noted her former allies in the New Republic Senate, their solemn faces schooled into practiced caricatures of dismay. She was a liar and a traitor, shrilled the pundits and opposition leaders, and ought to resign her seat. It went without saying that her bid for election to the Chancellorship was dead in the water.

Leia’s political career had never meant much to Ben. Amid all the talking heads and instant reaction segments, Ben heard only two things: First, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa’s twin brother and legendary Jedi Master, was Darth Vader’s son. And second, he, Ben Solo, was Darth Vader’s grandson. He’d never been told; whatever their rationale, neither Leia and Han, nor Luke, had bothered to enlighten him.

No one had. No one else had known.

Except, in his heart of hearts, Ben realized that _he’d_ already known. He’d known it in front of the campfire when he’d reached into Luke’s mind and felt the swirl of darkness buried there. He’d known it from the yellow-orange light reflected in Luke’s eyes. He’d known it when they’d kissed, when Luke’d pushed him down hard onto the bare, dusty ground and made love to him frantically with the stars themselves as their witness. And he’d known it in the days which followed, as, to the best of their abilities, they’d fulfilled every one of Ben’s secret erotic fantasies…in addition to quite a few interesting—and exquisitely pleasurable—techniques he’d never previously imagined were possible.

If it weren’t for the livid hand-shaped bruises on his hips and buttocks, the teeth marks on his shoulders and neck, a throat hoarse and aching from screaming Luke’s name over and over and over in passion, he might have thought he’d only dreamt it.

Ben had dared to wonder on occasion if perhaps he was fighting on the wrong side. Democracy could be so messy and inefficient; dictatorial rule wielded by a wise supreme leader would bring greater justice and security to the galaxy. Sometimes, it had seemed like a tiny voice was whispering these subversive ideas into his ear, perhaps a side effect of his particular mind-reading Force talents? But no, that had been a misapprehension—it had only ever been the legacy his blood trying to guide him down a different path.

That legacy was Luke’s, too. It was another unique thing they shared. They should be proud!

Only, Luke didn’t seem proud of any of it.

“Why are we standing against the First Order when we ought to be _joining_ them?!” Ben asked, pacing back and forth, unable to contain his excitement. “Why are you acting like this?! We are the blood of Darth Vader himself—it is our _destiny_ to bring order to the galaxy!!”

“No, Ben.” Luke’s expression was strained. “Please don’t do this. Domination is never—”

A clatter interrupted them. A student had dropped a datapad. Their conversation had been overheard.

***

They attacked that very night, all the ungrateful little beasts whom Luke had raised, trained, and _cherished_ like his own children.

“The heirs to the Empire must die!” they cried.

Luke tried to reason with them, but they would not listen. They dragged him bodily out of the hallowed halls of the training temple, and Ben along with him, calling their presence a sacrilege. Both he and Luke were forced onto their knees. The other students raged and accused Luke of deception and bad faith and demanded an explanation for his secrecy, but Luke merely shook his head and stared at the ground, covered in shame. He refused to speak. Further incensed by his lack of cooperation, they lashed out. They struck a blow to his temple. _They wounded him_. Ben felt Luke’s wound like _his_ flesh had been gouged. It enraged him.

They will kill Luke where he kneels, hands raised in futile placation, Ben realized as a distant rumble of thunder heralded an approaching storm, and l will die alongside him, if he will not rise to fight. If I fight, will Luke…will he…?

Ben had a choice to make, and so he chose.

He fought…

…and they died. Cut down. Pierced through the heart. Decapitated. Each and every one of them.

When Ben came back to himself at last, drained of his bloodlust and battle frenzy, the storm had come and gone, flames were engulfing the temple walls, unchecked, and Luke was staring at Ben’s crimson lightsaber. It had been crafted in secret, after a dozen miserable failed attempts, and it was Ben’s most precious material possession. Luke’s face was wet with rain or tears. Possibly both. “Ben…?! How _could_ you…?!” he whispered.

“It’s okay now,” Ben said, extinguishing his blade. “I protected you. Don’t be afraid. You’re safe.”

Luke just needed reassurance, Ben told himself, that was all; he just needed to feel the purity— _the rightness_ —of their love again. Ben pushed new fantasies forward into Luke’s mind: They would rule the galaxy together, and they would love each other forever. The powerful belonged with the powerful! Constraints governing ordinary beings didn’t apply to them; their relationship would be conducted out in the open, unashamed. No,  _no,_ this wasn’t mere fantasy! It would actually come to pass! Couldn’t Luke see the same future Ben saw so clearly?

The thrill and the adrenaline of the kills had been arousing, and Ben was hard beneath his robes. He knelt down beside Luke. Later, there would be all the time in the world for slow, sweet lovemaking, but at the moment Ben needed it rough and fast and desperate, right here on the storm-soaked ground. He needed Luke to fill him, both in body and in mind, with his cock, with his love and devotion, no room in either of them for self-doubt or equivocation, and he was certain Luke already knew everything Ben was thinking: By the fierce, blazing light of the burning temple, Luke’s eyes shone like citrine in the sunset.

Ben reached out with a trembling hand to brush Luke’s hair back from his forehead…

…and perceived _nothing_. Nothing at all. Luke’s mind was completely closed off to him. He hadn’t known it was possible. He hadn’t known Luke was _capable_ of thwarting the greatest of Ben’s talents.

He hadn’t known Luke could be so cruel.

The rejection shattered Ben Solo’s spirit into a thousand sharp, jagged shards.

Kylo Ren snatched his hand away. Then, he rose to his feet, spun about on his heel, and left Luke behind. He too could be cruel.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to the exchange on August 25, 2018.


End file.
